Clown. Nine, Sir: Over-done by the last. Efcal. Nine? come hither to me, mafter Froth: mafter Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapfters; They will draw you, mafter Froth, and you will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you. Froth. I thank your worship; for mine own part, I never come into any room in a taphouse, but I am drawn in. Efcal. Well; no more of it, mafter Froth; farewel. [Exit Froth. SCENE IV. Come you hither to me, mafter tapfter; what's your name, master tapster? Clown. Pompey. Efcal. What else? Clown. Bum, Sir. Efcal. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you, fo that, in the beaftlieft fenfe, you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey; howfoever you colour it in being a tapfter; are you not? come tell me true, it shall be the better for you. Clown. Truly. Sir, I am a poor fellow that would live. Efcal. How would you live, Pompey? by being bawd? what do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade? Clown. If the law will allow it, Sir. Efcal. But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it fhall not be allowed in Vienna. Clown. Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth in the city? Efcal. No, Pompey. Clown. Truly, Sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't to't then. If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you need not fear the bawds. Efcal. There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: it is but heading and hanging. Clown. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten years together, you'll be glad to give out a commiffion for more heads: if this law hold in Vienna ten years, * I'll rent the fairest house in it, after three pence a bay: live to fee this come to pass, fay, you Pompey told you fo. if Efcal. Thank you, good Pompey; and in requital of your prophecy, hark you; I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatfoever; no, not for dwelling where you do; if I do, Pompey, I fhall beat you to your tent, and prove a fhrewd Cæfar to you: in plain dealing, Pompey, I fhall have you whipt: fo for this time, Pompey, fare you well. Clown. I thank your worship for your good counfel; but I fhall follow it, as the flesh and fortune fhall better determine. Whip me? no, no; let carman whip his jade; [Exit. OME hither to me, master Elbow; come Efcal. Chither, mafter conftable; how long have you been in this place of constable? Elb. Seven years and a half, Sir. I'll rent the fairest house in it, for three pence a bay:] Mr. Theobald found that this was the Reading of the old Books, and he follows it out of pure Reverence for Antiquity. He fuppofes Bay to be that Projection called a Bay-window; as if the Way of rating Houses was by the Number of their Bay-windows. But it is quite another Thing, and fignifies the fquared Frame of a Timber Houfe; each of which Divifions or Squares is called a Bay. Hence a Building of fo many Bays. Efcal. Efcal. I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had continued in it some time: you fay feven years together? Elb. And a half, Sir. Efcal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you; they do you wrong to put you fo oft upon't: are there not men in your ward fufficient to serve it? Elb. Faith, Sir, few of any wit in such matters; as they are chosen, they are glad to chufe me for them. I do it for fome piece of money, and go through with all. Efcal. Look you, bring me in the names of fome fix or seven, the most fufficient of your parish. Elb. To your worship's house, Sir? Efcal. To my houfe; fare you well. What's a clock, think you? [Exit Elbow. Juft. Eleven, Sir. Eftal. I pray you, home to dinner with me. Juft. I humbly thank you. Efcal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio: But there's no remedy. Juft. Lord Angelo is fevere. Efcal. It is but needful: Mercy is not itself, that oft looks fo; [Exeunt. Enter Provoft, and a Servant. Serv.E's hearing of a caufe; he will come ftraight: I'll tell him of you. Prov. Pray you, do; I'll know His pleasure; 't may be, he'll relent; alas! All fects, all ages fmack of this vice; and he Enter Angelo. Ang. Now, what's the matter, Provost? Prov. Is it your will, Claudio fhall die to morrow? Ang. Did not I tell thee, yea? hadft thou not order? Why doft thou ask again? Prov. Left I might be too rafh. Under your good correction, I have seen, Ang. Go to; let that be mine, Do you your office, or give up your place, Prov. I crave your pardon. What shall be done, Sir, with the groaning Juliet? She's very near her hour. Ang. Difpofe of her To fome more fitting place, and that with speed. Ang. Hath he a fifter? Prov. Ay, my good lord, a very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a fifter-hood, If not already. Ang. Well; let her be admitted. See you, the fornicatrefs be remov'd; [Exit Servant. Let her have needful, but not lavish, means; There shall be order for it. SCENE ENE. VII. Enter Lucio and Isabella. Prov. 'SAVE your honour. Ang. Stay yet a while. what's your will? Ifab. I am a woful fuitor to your Honour, Please but your Honour hear me. Y'are welcome; Ang. Ang. Well; what's your fuit? Ifab. There is a vice that most I do abhor, Ang. Well; the matter? Ifab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die; I do befeech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother. Prov. Heav'n give thee moving graces! Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done;. Mine were the very cipher of a function, To find the faults, whofe fine ftands in record, Ifab. O juft, but severe law! I had a brother then; heav'n keep your Honour! Lucio. Give not o'er fo: to him again, intreat him, Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; You are too cold; if you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it, Ifab. Muft he needs die? Ang. Maiden, no remedy. Ifab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him; And neither heav'n, nor man, grieve at the mercy. Ang. I will not do't. Ifab. But can you, if you would? Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. wrong, If fo your heart were touch'd with that remorse, Ang. He's fentenc'd; 'tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold. |